


Much Ado

by blythechild



Category: V for Vendetta (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:12:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blythechild/pseuds/blythechild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>V's physical sensitivity creates a rift between he and Evey. She decides to desensitize him by wandering around the Shadow Gallery naked, which only causes more problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Much Ado

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a story about how someone who is so ashamed of his appearance would adjust to being in a physical relationship. And, I wanted to write some smut...
> 
> This fic contains mature situations and explicit sexual content. It should not be read by minors.
> 
> This is fanfiction and as such I do not claim ownership over the characters herein. It was created as a personal entertainment.

Every time she touched him, he startled and it was beginning to piss her off. How many times would she have to ease him past this? How many times would she have to give herself up to him before he became comfortable with her? He was a torture victim – she knew that now – so she tried to take that into consideration _each time_. But each time he jerked his hand away from her, each time he twitched under her touch she felt a little more rejected, a little more isolated. 

After breakfast, they had chatted idly over the kitchen sink while washing up: he washed, she dried. Moved by the closeness of the moment she lightly caressed his naked, swollen fingers as he handed her a plate and he started, dropping the plate and watching it shatter on the stone floor. Evey let out a sigh of exasperation and turned away from him, throwing her tea towel to the counter as she did.

“Not to worry…” he breezed as he set off in search of a broom and dustpan.

“Says you!” Evey growled after him and set off to her room with an agitated stride.

“Evey?” V asked, noting the anger in her words and step, but he was only answered by the slamming of her bedroom door.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Evey had devised a plan. It was going to cause V discomfort and confusion, but she felt that he had entirely too much control over himself and this whole scenario to be healthy. She determined that shaking him up was exactly what was required. She loved him; she truly did, though she had not said so yet. But he made it so hard – why could he not allow her to be close to him? Couldn’t he see that she needed it? How could he be so heart-wrenchingly raw with her in the bedroom and be so distant everywhere else? She did not want to hurt him, but they seemed at a standstill, merely living from moment to moment hastily patching problems as they came along. She wanted more: she wanted progress. She wanted a promise of future moments, not just a pleasurable now. Nodding her head once to herself in reassurance of her commitment, she opened the bedroom door and headed toward the TV room.

V looked up from his book at his traditional spot at the end of the couch, and blanched. Or he would have blanched if he were not hidden by Guy’s bland smile. Evey curled herself into the opposite end of the couch with her own book and smiled at him warmly.

“What are you reading?” She asked blithely.

V remained frozen, staring at her with unreadable eyes, his hand halted over a page in mid-turn. Finally, she heard his breath return to him as it rasped out between Guy’s immovable lips.

“Evey, what in God’s name are you doing!” He murmured, his voice wavering slightly.

“Well, I was about to start ‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’… why? Is it not any good?”

V snapped his book shut and slammed it into the cushion to his side as he turned to face her.

“Don’t be coy, woman! You’re _naked_!” 

He growled in a way that both aroused and scared her – perhaps this had not been a wise plan after all.

“What are you playing at?” He demanded.

It was Evey’s turn to snap her book shut as she placed in on her naked thighs and fixed him with a narrow, determined look.

“You are uncomfortable around me, V. _Still_. I mean to break you of it.” Her voice was like iron.

“By prancing around the Gallery _naked_?!”

“There was no prancing involved: I walked.” Evey’s retort was sharp. “Besides, you have seen me naked before, V…” 

“In the _appropriate_ situation! Under mutual agreement!” V sputtered, becoming more alarmed with each passing second.

“And yet, despite the vulnerability that I’ve offered to you, despite the openness, you still draw away from me when I touch you.” Evey tried to cool her tone towards detachment, away from the hurt that lay just below the skin of her. “You still shrink from me as if I were poison.”

V was silent at this. The only sounds that Evey heard were his rushed breathing and the crinkle of leather as he curled the fingers of his right glove on top of his knee. Evey leaned forward slightly with her hand extended, suddenly wanting to discard her cold analysis of the situation in favor of feeling.

“I’ve seen your scars, V, and I don’t mind them at all…”

He did not give her a chance to finish her thought. V rose from the couch suddenly and strode violently away from her and towards his own room. He growled darkly as he left and Evey’s heart leapt into her throat to see his angry silhouette shrink into the distance.

“V!” She called after him, but this time it was she who was answered by the sound of a slamming door.

\------------------------------------------------------------

V remained in his room all day, in spite of Evey’s pleadings. Thinking that his stomach might soften his ire, she prepared dinner for them making sure that it smelled flavorful enough to tempt the sourest palette. Sure enough, the scent of venison stew with dumplings lured him from his room, silent as a shadow. Evey was still naked. She wanted to mend things between them but she was also stubborn. She turned, seeing him standing at the edge of the kitchen’s light, and placed a steaming bowl at his place on the table without a word. He crept further into the kitchen but did not take up his seat. Evey returned to the stove.

“You’re cold.” He whispered finally.

She turned, trying to ascertain if he was being figurative or not. She shrugged her shoulders and ladled out a portion of stew for herself.

“At least you’re present enough to notice…” She murmured.

“It’s hard not to.” He sighed, and she heard him draw the chair back and sit down heavily. “So how long is this little lesson going to last?”

“Until it takes.” Evey turned and sat at the table, cooling the stew with her breath. “Or until I get pneumonia. Whichever comes first.” 

They both sat and ate in pregnant silence, both too stubborn to admit defeat.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Evey wandered around the Gallery naked as the day she was born for 72 hours. V had spent most of that time either in his room or in his private study, coming out only for meals or to move from one sanctuary to another. He had barely said more than a dozen words to her the whole time. Evey had started to despair: not only was her experiment not working, it had created a vast, possibly insurmountable, chasm between them. Her heart ached and each night she cried quietly in the privacy of her own room over her inability to _just let it go_.

On the morning of the fourth day, she awoke to the sinful scent of bacon. Her mouth watered and, for a moment, she forgot that V had not cooked a single meal in the past three days, no doubt unable to countenance her nakedness long enough to prepare anything. Evey sat bolt upright in bed and then lit from it as if the mattress was on fire. She rushed from her room and scuttled towards the kitchen only to be stopped dead in her tracks halfway there. V stood over the stovetop tending to the bacon dressed in his wig, mask, apron, and _nothing else_. He turned slightly and caught sight of her, naked and openmouthed, and abruptly stopped humming to himself.

“Breakfast, madam?” He gestured graciously to the table. “Tea perhaps?”

Evey closed her mouth, forced her feet to move and took a seat as he directed. _What’s good for the goose…_ ran through her head. She shook her head slightly and slouched in her chair.

“What’s happening here?” She whispered openly to herself.

“Eggs over easy, fried tomatoes, nice crispy bacon…” V answered, amused with himself. 

He leaned forward over her shoulder so that she could feel the heat of his body up her back as he poured her a cup of tea. She could smell the mixture of sandalwood and old leather that she associated with him along with bacon grease and a hint of a musky undertone that she smelled when they were in bed together. The combination nearly made her swoon. 

“And tea.” V lingered over her longer than he needed to. “Sugar?”

He knew how she took her tea – he was trying to make a point of some kind. Or he was making excuses to be close to her. Once again her mind asked: _What’s happening here?_ She nodded at the offer of sugar and then turned to watch him as he bent over her. His mask stared at her, not the teacup, as he stirred in sweetness. Slowly, he drew the spoon from her cup, laid it on the table and grasped the back of her chair casually. His eyes never left hers. She wished that he were not wearing the mask for once. They looked at each other silently for a long moment, and then Evey blinked.

“V?” She whispered.

“Hmm?”

“What’s with the apron?”

It was clearly not the question he had been expecting. He looked down at himself and then shrugged.

“It’s not advisable to cook bacon in the nude. Grease spatters…” He husked.

“You’re not nude though…”

“Sorry?” He countered.

“The mask, the wig… they offer you a kind of protection, don’t they?” Evey may have been dazed but she was not completely witless.

“So they do.” He said after a long moment, then reached up and removed his wig and unbuckled his mask, placing them on the table beside her tea.

His scarred features, highlighted unmercifully in the kitchen light, spoke to a hidden tenderness and a plea for peace between them. Her heart swelled painfully and she had to fight the tremendous urge to kiss him and let this moment carry them off into passion as similar moments had. She reached up and stroked his cheek softly as a small compromise to her private desire. V closed his eyes and stood there under her caress, waiting.

“Evey,” he whispered. “Please…”

“V?”

“Yes?”

“The bacon’s burning.”

“Damn!” V swung back towards the stovetop and hastily plated the salvageable bacon.

V assembled the tomatoes, eggs and buttered toast and turned back towards the table with a look of mild annoyance.

“Not so bad.” He placed a plate in front of Evey and then poured himself a cup of tea before sitting across from her.

Evey dived into her breakfast, grateful for the excuse to be occupied with something else. V nibbled at his own plate, watching her in furtive glances between bites. After she had finished her meal, Evey leaned back in her chair holding her teacup delicately in one hand.

“You’re still wearing the apron.” She observed.

“Evey, tell me again your motivations in this naked business…” V tented his fingers, leaning against the tabletop.

“Because you startle every time I touch you _except_ when we are intimate.” Evey sighed as part of her natural glow left her. “I can’t decide if it’s me, or your memories of torture, or the fear of your own skin that you dislike, and I need to find out. I figured that if you could see that there was no difference between the woman that you sleep with and the woman that you live with, maybe it would stop.”

Evey sighed heavily again, coming close to tears.

“Couples touch one another, V. Couples are physically close even without desire. I don’t see you differently clothed or naked: you are the same to me. What is it about me that you can’t bear?”

“You see us as a couple, Evey?”

“You don’t?” Evey’s anxiety, too close to the surface, suddenly spilled down her cheeks.

“I see you as the love of my life.” He said simply, quietly. “There is nothing about you that I find repulsive in any way.”

He stood suddenly and moved towards her side of the table.

“You want to know why I can’t touch you outside the bedroom? Here…” V removed his apron and looked down at his arousal in embarrassment. “I am too sensitive, and my feelings are so strong that something which seems casual to you produces sensations in me that I find very difficult to control. I’ve never been in love, Evey. I’ve never known pleasures of the flesh until you. I have no idea what to do about this…I want you all the time. It’s maddening.”

Evey looked him over and then stared once again into his eyes, seeing an awkwardness there that softened her own hurt. He was a man in so many respects, but in matters of the heart he was merely a boy with all of the trepidation and confusion that _that_ entailed.

“Do you think that I _don’t_ want to hold you all the time, Evey?” He whispered desperately.

She rose from her chair and pressed a soft kiss into his worried mouth. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her close, no longer concerned with hiding his erection. Evey leaned firmly into his taunt, warm frame and lost herself in the feel of his mouth, the heat of his skin, the smell of his excitement and relief. She pulled away from his mouth though remaining tight against him, watching as his mouth chased after hers.

“Why did we have to get naked to have this conversation?” She smiled while giving him a quick peck.

“Because we’re both stubborn.” V smiled back at her and then winked. “And because it would make what happens next a lot easier.”

“And, what happens next?”

V chuckled and collected her back into his mouth as he slowly lowered them both to the kitchen floor.

\----------------------------------------------------------

Hours had passed and they had never made it out of the kitchen. After the third time, V had suggested – since they were in the vicinity anyway – that they pause for lunch. Neither of them had the energy to resurrect the kitchen table (a casualty of their second assignation), so they just propped the fridge door open and made sandwiches while sitting on the stone floor, leaning into the fridge for things as they went.

“Are you okay?” V asked while downing half a carton of milk, passing the remainder to Evey.

“Oh, yes. Just _exhausted_ …” She smiled and saluted him with the milk carton.

“Hmmm.” V mused while building an impressive mixed cold cut sandwich. “You see my problem with this hyper-sensitivity issue now, do you? It’s difficult to stay focused.”

“Yes. But there has to be a middle ground, don’t you think?” Evey reached into the fridge and retrieved two apples from the crisper, handing one to V.

“Mmph, _clothes_!” He mumbled around a mouthful of sandwich with a smile. “I think that the only solution is greater familiarity with one another. I will work on the intimacy-without-passion dilemma and perhaps you could keep in mind the thinness of my skin, so to speak… This sandwich could stand a spot of Dijon. Pass me the mustard, would you?”

Evey rose to her knees, turned and rooted around in the fridge in search of mustard, quite unaware of the view that she was offering V. He lowered his sandwich and watched her as she stretched and moved, shoving fridge items aside as she went. He watched as her nipples hardened from the appliance’s chilly air, and as ripples of gooseflesh rose and fell over the soft surface of her like waves upon the ocean.

“I think that your idea is a good place to start, V. I wish that you had mentioned your sensitivity earlier – I would have been more cautious. Where the hell is the Dijon? I don’t suppose that you’ll settle for yellow mustard…”

“Perish the thought.” Said V, completely distracted by the curve of her ass now that her upper torso was embedded inside the fridge. “Keep looking.”

He languished against the fridge door as Evey’s rump muscles contracted and loosened while she moved. He saw the small dimples just above the cheeks and below her back and sighed, realizing that lunch was rapidly becoming a distant, unimportant memory. He looked down over his own body and resigned himself to further muscle aches.

“Seriously, V, I don’t see any Dijon. Do we have any in…” Evey stopped as she felt V’s textured fingers caress and knead her bottom suddenly.

“Evey,” He said breathlessly. “Do you have any idea how exquisite your arse is?”

Evey pulled herself out of the fridge and looked him over, noting his fresh erection with longing and fatigue. She leaned back against the edge of the fridge so that her back arched her breasts forward. Her smile beckoned him in spite of everything.

“I have some idea, yes.” She cooed.

V tossed his sandwich aside and rose up onto his knees, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her abruptly to him. His lips strafed across hers and he moaned when she asked him for more with her tongue. His cock, pressed firmly between them, twitched angrily that it had served its master faithfully three times already and was being asked to endure further abuse. V’s hands slid down Evey’s back and grabbed a liberal amount of ass in each iron grip. She yelped under his attentions but he bit down on her lower lip and held her in place that way, mitigating the punishment with a little tender sucking as well. He grunted suddenly and moved her to the front of the fridge opening, sprawling her backwards into the inner shelving upsetting containers as he did. Again, Evey meeped but was soon caught up in his lips that alternately bit and sucked their way down her throat, over her clavicle and towards her breasts, leaving his kisses to cool in the fridge’s icy air.

“What about lunch?” She was amazed that she had said the words almost as soon as they had come out of her mouth.

V laughed darkly and lowered himself, as if commanded, between her legs. If she had any further questions they were solidly blocked from her mind by the feel of his tongue licking her lightly along her seam as if testing a savory dish. She gasped and grappled at the interior of the fridge for a hold to brace herself against as he mumbled into her and then slipped his tongue inside. He flicked in and out of her while massaging her mound. His fingers occasionally danced down to her sensitive bud, now raw and sore from previous attentions, and tickled it lightly: less was more in her current state. Evey’s hips wiggled frantically as her body desired him to offer her more pain and pleasure _immediately_. The vegetable crisper was digging painfully into her back and in order to offset the bite of the plastic into her flesh, she kicked out and yelled; hitting the fridge door and splattering assorted condiments all over them both. 

As if the yell was language, V grabbed Evey up and spread her over the kitchen floor, trying to avoid the mess and broken glass. He once again bent to his delicious task between her thighs as her legs wrapped over his shoulders and her hands took the back of his head pushing him further into her. She moaned and writhed beneath him, calling his name as if dying. He resurrected himself from her hot, wet core and caught his breath laying his head across her lower belly.

“My God, Evey…” He gasped while looping his hands under her backside and cradling it closer.

Suddenly, Evey flipped over him, and with a forceful push, and made him recline onto the kitchen floor while she loomed over him. She leaned into his chest and took large, sucking bites out of him along the lines of his scars. He alternately hissed and laughed as she went, grabbing her hips and directing them towards his aching cock. She lowered herself back wards and traced the outer edge of his erection with her own wetness, which abruptly ended his laughter though the gasping continued. She rubbed slowly back and forth along his shaft but never enough to give him any real satisfaction: merely a hint of what she could offer. The reality was that they were both very sore and anything more vigorous might have caused more pain than was wanted. V’s hips began to gyrate upwards, wanting to meet with her, in her. 

“Evey!” He cried as she moaned against him. “This is torture!”

She was not sure if he was referring to the moment or to their seemingly insatiable appetite for one another. Either way, he was right – at least she could do something about the former. She rose above him and lowered herself down his cock slowly, gritting her teeth against the rawness of her lips. Once he was fully inside her, V let out a long shuddering breath that spoke to the same pain. He grunted and began to move in her as she began to swivel her hips. He opened his eyes and looked up as she gyrated and swayed to his rhythm. A finger slid down between them and he circled her with the tip of it, watching as her eyes half-closed and her head lolled backwards in pure, lazy pleasure. V pulsed into her harder. He watched in delight as she mouthed his name over and over, and as her breasts moved with each upward thrust. Their seam was hot and slick with anticipation and he gasped feeling his end coming.

“Evey!” He groaned. “How am I not supposed to think of you like this every time I see you?”

Evey moaned something unintelligible and then her whole body stiffened, pulsed and contracted around him. She fell forward into his chest as her pelvis twitched and spasmed beyond her control. She cried out his name long and loud before planting a vicious bite on his shoulder. V cried out in surprise and rocked in her until her spasms triggered his own and he pushed her hips down towards him unmercifully, trying to drag as much pleasure from the feel of her as possible. He raced to breathe, spending himself entirely in one breathless contraction and then becoming lifeless beneath her warm weight. 

After a few moments, he rolled them onto their sides on the floor and parted from her with a painful hiss.

“Oww!” Evey moaned and he kissed her lightly by way of apology.

She was covered in spilled sauce and a mixture of condiments. He was too and had a sneaking suspicion that the remains of his sandwich had been plastered to his lower back. V looked at her critically and then dipped his head to her chest and took a long, slow lick of her from nipple to neck.

“I found the Dijon.” He laughed lightly.

Evey laughed and rolled onto her back so that they were laying shoulder to shoulder, sweating, giggling and sullied by assorted food stuffs. She reached out and grabbed a callused hand in hers, clasping it gently to her chest.

“Oh!” She puffed. “We have to start wearing clothes _immediately_!”

V laughed heartily and raised himself up onto an elbow with his free hand, and leaned over to kiss her softly.

“I wholeheartedly agree, my darling.”


End file.
